tlhIngan maH!
by Polydicta
Summary: What happens when Harry is exposed to a fictional character with a worthwhile warrior ethos? What happens when Harry and company decide to emulate a fictional warrior race. tlhInganpu, is what. Some graphic death scenes later.
1. 1: Concerning the Death Of Dumbledore

**tlhIngan maH! (We Are Klingons)**

by Polydicta

**Summary:**

Harry knows that he will meet Voldemort. With the headmaster dead and the underage magic detectors damaged, he decides to give himself an 'edge'. A Crossunder between the worlds of Harry Potter and Start Trek fandom.

What happens when Harry is exposed to a fictional character with a worthwhile warrior ethos? What happens when Harry and company decide to emulate a fictional warrior race. What happens when their training makes them physically strong, immune to pain and magically powerful?

_tlhInganpu_, is what.

**Author's Forward:**

This is NOT a Star Trek / HP crossover! – it's a HP/Trekkie crossunder. The Klingon stuff is based (loosely) on Star Trek (Next Generation) material.

In speech, text enclosed in square brackets [ ] is the Klingon/English translation

.

This is **not** my best writing by far, and whilst I am not happy with it I don't have the inclination to perform a complete overhaul and re-write. This (ridiculously) short chapter is new and chapter 6 (End Game) is currently being re-written as the worst example of my scribbling imaginable. My original part 6 really made the whole thing painful to read (not that the rest is pain-free).

**Disclaimer: **

All fiction is derivative and fan fiction doubly so. I make no claim to own any part of any of the following, all I have done is an attempt to put together the elements in a novel fashion, using words and ideas like Lego ™ bricks.

Star Trek, Klingon and everything pertaining are copyright items and the property of Paramount Studios and the Estate of Gene Roddenberry. No infringement on those rights is intended.

There is no money involved – all I do is to share what I do for my own amusement.

-::::::::-

**tlhIngan maH! (We Are Klingons) - Part 1: Concerning the Death Of Albus Dumbledore**

"Harry?"

The dark-haired teen turned. "Yes Hermione?"

"Harry … I want … I need … to apologise …"

Harry nodded. "Go on, Hermione …"

"Harry … I-I'm sorry. I was wrong and you were right …"

"In what respect, Hermione?" His voice was still cold, almost as thouigh he had given up on his friend.

"Everything … the book … Malfoy … Snape … everything …"

Tears now trickled across her cheeks, her voice breaking as she went on, "li-life is t-too short to b-b-be angry, H-harry, a-and I w-was a fool t-to throw m-myself at R-r-ronald."

There was a venomous edge as she spoke the redhead's name.

She continued, " I d-don't know what I was thinking … he always puts me down and winds me up …"

She flung herself at her friend and threw her arms around him. Refelxively, after a moment, he hugged her back as she stood sobbing into his chest.

.

As the hours passed before the Headmaster's funeral, Harry and Hermione discussed Harry's mission, given him by Albus Dumbledore himself. Without the proximity of Ron, who was _busy_ with Lavender, the pair became closer - they gave mutual support and, by the time that Albus was interred in his marble tomb, a degree of affection.

.

The journey back to Kings Cross on the Hogwarts Express was difficult, particularly for the younger students who were scared and in need of comfort. On arriving at the station, the platform was swarming with aurors, Harry recognised several dressed as muggles on the muggle side of the barrier.

The Dursleys were notable by their absence, and Harry was met by Remus Lupin and Alastor Moody.

"Just the pair. Potter, your relatives are waiting for you in Surrey so we'll be taking you there ourselves. We've convinced them to go away on holiday for the next few weeks, until your birthday, so you'll be there on your own. You know the drill, so someone will follow you when you need to shop. Lupin here will look in on you occasionally.

"Oh, and both of you, just so that you know, someone has sabotaged the magical sensors in the underage magic office and with the current state of things, it doesn't look like they'll be fixed this side of next year."

"Who … why … ?"

Moody's face split into a disturbing grin. "The Ministry think that it's so that underage Death Eaters can operate freely without being noticed. I think it's a wonderful opportunity for you to train on your own …"

.

.


	2. 2: First Contact

**tlhIngan maH! (We Are Klingons)**

by Polydicta

**Summary:**

Harry knows that he will meet Voldemort. With the headmaster dead and the underage magic detectors damaged, he decides to give himself an 'edge'. A Crossunder between the worlds of Harry Potter and Start Trek fandom.

What happens when Harry is exposed to a fictional character with a worthwhile warrior ethos? What happens when Harry and company decide to emulate a fictional warrior race. What happens when their training makes them physically strong, immune to pain and magically powerful?

_tlhInganpu_, is what.

**Author's Forward:**

This is NOT a Star Trek / HP crossover! – it's a HP/Trekkie crossunder. The Klingon stuff is based (loosely) on Star Trek (Next Generation) material.

In speech, text enclosed in square brackets [ ] is the Klingon/English translation

**Disclaimer: **

All fiction is derivative and fan fiction doubly so. I make no claim to own any part of any of the following, all I have done is an attempt to put together the elements in a novel fashion, using words and ideas like Lego ™ bricks.

Star Trek, Klingon and everything pertaining are copyright items and the property of Paramount Studios and the Estate of Gene Roddenberry. No infringement on those rights is intended.

There is no money involved – all I do is to share what I do for my own amusement.

-::::::::-

**tlhIngan maH! (We Are Klingons) - Part 2: First Contact**

Harry was left at Privet Drive while the Dursleys went on holiday, Dudley's school having broken up the day before Harry returned from Hogwarts. Of course, after having completed his summer homework and writing to his friends, he was just left to brood. And since the school had closed early following the death of the Headmaster, it was a much longer summer than usual.

His brooding took him, naturally enough, to the facts of life and death. Sirius was dead and so was Dumbledore. Harry had come to accept these losses as fact. He has sworn vengeance against Tom Riddle. He knew that he would likely die in the process of avenging his parents, Cedric Diggory, Sirius Black, Albus Dumbledore and the thousands of unknown individuals dead at Voldemort's behest.

Harry wanted to live, but he was the focus of a war he could not avoid.

Harry was ready to meet his maker, but not before he had expunged Voldemort from the world.

Harry wanted an edge. Harry needed an edge. Harry needed to be able to use _the power he knows not_.

Harry needed a decent night's sleep.

Trying to take his mind off of the world as he knew it, he decided to take a look at something on the television. He thought he was going to watch a program about astronomy, a subject with which he needed all the help he could get. What he saw was a science fiction program called Star Trek.

The plot was fairly simple and the imagery barely credible but the characters! There was an almost-human android (he had to look the word up in the dictionary) and there was a very human-looking alien with a strange head and a bad temper. A Klingon called Wharf, or something.

There was something about this last character that seemed to resonate with Harry's psyche.

The man was an orphan and a _great warrior_. He followed the ideals of honour and truth and strength. There the resemblance to Harry had broken down, but Harry found himself thinking, that night, that this was the kind of person he wanted to be. Without, perhaps, the forehead and snaggle-teeth.

He watched the program each evening that week, the episodes unfurling and developing Harry's thoughts. Harry decided to find out more.

Thursday arrived and Harry walked in to Little Whinging town centre, to the library, a sterile glass and concrete building as cheerless and unpleasant as the library at school was welcoming, although he'd die before he admitted _that_ to Hermione.

Wandering the shelves he found that there were videos of the series and books about the programs, and such books. They treated the series as though the programs were reality. Harry started reading, and viewing programs on the video machines, building up a picture of the warrior, Worf, and some behind-the-scenes information on the series' Klingon Warrior.

Harry decided that he was going to give himself a present on his birthday this year. A present that Voldemort would honestly regret, at least, eventually.

.

Saturday arrived and Harry took his remaining muggle money into town. He bought some books on oriental martial arts, a book on Star Trek and some karate clothes, as well as some basic training weights. He also bought some decent food.

He started planning, and he started training.

Harry had become quite fit during his time at Hogwarts, what with quiddich, magical duelling and other physical activities. What he began doing now was intended to bring his stamina up and his strength for physical, muggle-style fighting.

Harry had no illusions, he knew that in a fist fight Dudley could pummel him. In a fist fight, Stan Shunpike could probably best him, too. That was about to change.

Harry, having learned the lesson of determination and already having excellent reflexes, was an apt student of the martial arts. Using books and videos from the library he learned the stances, the punching and blocking skills and the set forms or _katas_. He was working with a mixture of styles and disciplines, creating his own. He meditated, partly as an occlumancy exercise, but also as part of his new combat training philosophy. He was changing both physically and mentally.

His birthday arrived, and he was suddenly seventeen and an adult, at least, magically speaking.

Hermione had invited him to stay with her for the remainder of the summer, an offer he accepted eagerly. Before travelling to Oxfordshire to be with her, he visited Diagon Alley, drawing a large reserve of gold, part of which he converted to muggle money. After leaving Diagon Alley, he visited an aerospace engineering firm close to Grunnings in Little Whinging.

They were a little surprised when he bought a quantity of titanium bar, the strong, lightweight metal used in jet engines. Returning to Privet Drive, he transfigured the metal stock into two sets of weaponry, as described in the Star Trek source book.

There was one other thing that he needed: the Klingon Pain-Sticks. He transfigured some old aluminium pipe into foot-long batons with safety sleeves, attaching transfigured glass "crystals" to the end. These he enchanted with various pain-giving curses and hexes. He touched one to his thigh and groaned with the pain.

_Now_ he was ready to visit Hermione.

.


	3. 3: Initiation

**tlhIngan maH! (We Are Klingons)**

by Polydicta

**Summary:**

Harry knows that he will meet Voldemort. With the headmaster dead and the underage magic detectors damaged, he decides to give himself an 'edge'. A Crossunder between the worlds of Harry Potter and Start Trek fandom.

What happens when Harry is exposed to a fictional character with a worthwhile warrior ethos? What happens when Harry and company decide to emulate a fictional warrior race. What happens when their training makes them physically strong, immune to pain and magically powerful?

_tlhInganpu_, is what.

**Author's Forward:**

This is NOT a Star Trek / HP crossover! – it's a HP/Trekkie crossunder. The Klingon stuff is based (loosely) on Star Trek (Next Generation) material.

In speech, text enclosed in square brackets [ ] is the Klingon/English translation

**Disclaimer: **

All fiction is derivative and fan fiction doubly so. I make no claim to own any part of any of the following, all I have done is an attempt to put together the elements in a novel fashion, using words and ideas like Lego ™ bricks.

Star Trek, Klingon and everything pertaining are copyright items and the property of Paramount Studios and the Estate of Gene Roddenberry. No infringement on those rights is intended.

There is no money involved – all I do is to share what I do for my own amusement.

-::::::::-

**tlhIngan maH! (We Are Klingons) - Part 3: Initiation**

Hermione was surprised at the changes that had occurred in her friend in so few short weeks. No longer the weeping, moping Harry grieving for his lost mentor, this was a confident, determined Harry. He looked the world in the eye.

"Who are you, and what have you done with Harry Potter?"

He grinned. "I got a dose of Star Trek, if you must know."

She stared at him. "That awful science fiction …"

He cut her off. "Yes, but if you look, there is something else under the surface. I decided to try to emulate Worf. I want an edge, 'Mione, and I think this may be it. Let's just say that it feels right?"

"So what are you doing?"

"Martial arts. I've been working out with my own routines, learning the fighting techniques. I've also put together some weaponry that I'll teach myself to use. The philosophy behind the whole thing is what matters right now. Oh and I've ordered some language tapes. It struck me that a private language might be useful in a situation like the Department of Mysteries – being able to communicate without anyone else knowing what's being said."

"But they're bound to have people who can speak foreign languages, Harry."

"Not this one, it's an artificial language made for the television series. A muggles-only thing."

There was something feral in his grin and Hermione felt herself starting to grin, too.

"Very Slytherin," she said.

.

The next morning saw Harry in the Grangers' garden working out. He had developed a series of rituals to accompany his practice, much as the eastern practitioners had. He felt that in order to enter into the spirit of what he was doing, he had to enter into the whole lifestyle-philosophy.

Hermione was impressed at what Harry was doing. His stances, blocks and blows reeked of sheer power, the focus he maintained suggested that he was seeing the world from very different pair of eyes.

When he was finished, she approached him.

"Harry, that was fantastic. Could you teach me?"

His answer was a smile. How well he knew his best friend.

"I have a set of _gi_ for you already."

"Ghee?"

He indicated his clothes. "Gi, karate suit. I got you pale blue, is that alright?"

She smiled. "You know it is. Why is yours white?"

"I chose white because, well, it was what they had at the shop. It's easy to clean."

.

After breakfast he showed her the notes he'd made, and explained the whole philosophy he had developed, the ethos behind his fictional role model.

"Harry, Worf is fictional …"

"I know, 'Mione, but that doesn't make the ideas behind the character wrong. Besides, I quite like the weaponry, it looks … workable."

"Weaponry?"

Harry brought out the weapons he had transfigured.

"These. I made them myself from titanium, the grips are Dragon hide. Light and incredibly strong. They're based on the weapons from the show, but I've modified them a bit. I want to learn how to use them. Who knows, I may be able to do something to defend myself if I lose my wand."

He grinned, and indicated a dagger with a large slot along almost the entire length of the blade."

"This one I particularly like. The telly show version is just a fanciful dagger. This one however…"

He engaged his wand in the slot, the tip hidden in the point and peeping from a hole.

"A dagger with a wand, Harry?"

"Like Hagrid's umbrella."

They both grinned.

"Harry, could you …"

"Teach you, Mione? No, because I don't know myself yet. I'm making it up as I go, but …"

He reached into his trunk and pulled out a flat box. Inside was a complete set of weapons, magically shrunk and waiting to be used.

"For me …?"

"For you. But don't try to use any of them until you have the unarmed stuff thoroughly learned."

She threw her arms around him and hugged.

"Thank you, Harry."

The summer continued with not a word from Ron, but they exchanged occasional letters with Ginny, Luna and Neville. Ginny was quite disparaging about her brother.

Hermione's parents were both quite taken with Harry, he was every inch the creature they had heard so much about in Hermione's letters. They thoroughly approved of his dedication to his martial arts, as well as to his other studies.

.

The duo decided to spend a couple of days at the Leaky Cauldron before travelling up to school.

After a visit to Gringotts, where Harry withdrew a large sum from his vault, converting part of it to muggle money, they bought their school supplies as well as new multi-compartment trunks. Harry ordered trunks with large capacity, security charms and with permanent shrinking and lightweight charms on them. Hermione was able to put her entire magical library in her trunk, along with all of her notes and supplies for the year.

They bought extra robes and a foray into Muggle London brought them a new muggle wardrobe as well.

Quality Quiddich Supplies saw Hermione with a set of chaser's robes as well as Harry with new Seeker's robes. Harry purchased two Nimbus 2002 brooms and a Clean-Sweep eight.

"Why do you need four brooms, Harry?"

"The Nimbuses, 'Mione, are to be shrunk and kept in our field kit. I want you to learn to fly properly, and that's where the Clean-Sweep comes in. With its additional safety charms, it's just as a kind of trainer for you. I want you to be able to fly out of trouble if you need to. The robes are just cover. Plus, they are warm for flying."

"Thank you Harry."

"There's another visit we need to make, but we need to disguise ourselves a bit."

Hermione looked dubious. Even more so when Harry told her what to put on. She was shocked when, hooded and cloaked, they walked into Knockturn Alley. There was a shop Harry had noticed on a previous visit. This time, he knew where he was going, and they carried a no-nonsense air that brooked no interruptions.

_Tobias Agonistes Septus_ the sign announced, and nothing more.

"Good morning. What be you wanting?"

"We need wands. As spares. A good matched one and a hold out at least. Each. And twin dual-holsters. What price basilisk-skin boots and gloves? Single holster and knife scabbard in the boot top."

"Matched wands are fifty galleon, spares are ten. Dual combat holsters are seven, Basilisk boots are two hundred and fifty, and the gloves I'll throw in for fifty. You got the gelt?"

Harry nodded and brought out a money pouch, which he hefted.

A half hour later they were fitted out with new wands, boots and gloves. Even the unmatched wands worked better for them than their original wands. The shopkeeper was surprised that they both needed the shortest wands in the shop.

Hoods still up, a visit to Quuirr's Emporium in Fundament Alley saw them equipped with what was euphemistically termed _hunter's belts_, belts with a dozen pockets as well as loops and hooks to attach equipment. Harry also bought a couple of _sport tents_, magical tents with simple facilities such as may be used on a hiking holiday. He also bought magical ropes and other tools.

"We're planning a long trip next summer straight from school," Harry explained, "we want to get used to the equipment before we leave for Canada."

"Right you are sir. Canada was it?"

"Yes, and possibly down into the Western States. We like mountains."

"And what name for the receipt, sir?"

"Koorg. Q'rzan and Lenkja Koorg."

"Oh, exchange students?"

"Something like that. Qapla' !" [Success!]

Outside, Hermione was shaking with suppressed laughter.

"Q'rzan Koorg? What makes you give a false name?"

"I've never been asked for a name for a receipt, 'Mione. Not in the wizarding world, anyway. We need to check everything for tracers and spy charms."

She nodded, tacitly agreeing with Harry's sense of paranoid caution. She agreed even more when they took tracers off all of the Quuirr's purchases. There was nothing untoward to be found on their Knockturn Alley shopping.

"Harry, the witch in Agonistes' - she was surprised at the short wands we got."

"Ollivander told me a couple of years back, the shorter the wand, the more powerful the mage. At eleven we both had fairly short wands. Think of the mongering great thing that Ron uses."

"Fourteen inches, yes. Long enough to use as a muggle weapon on its own."

"I suggest that our new seven and a quarter inch wands could even be smaller. What we've been doing over the summer seems to have concentrated our magic. Even Voldemort's wand is over thirteen inches. He seemed to be quite proud of the size of wand he can manage."

They both laughed.

"Speaking of whom, have you had any Voldemort Moments over the summer?"

Harry grinned. "The focus I've learned to maintain seems to have locked him out. So, no, no Voldie Moments, just normal teenage senility."

.

September the first arrived, and two very different students arrived on platform 9¾. Harry and Hermione were fit, not just school-fit, but athletically fit. They had trained hard and immersed themselves into the whole philosophy of the Klingon Warrior according to Potter. Both had proven to be most apt students.

They moved silently with a confidence and grace that they hadn't possessed that past June. Even relaxed, there was an air of taut spring about them like two big cats stalking _their_ jungle.

The closeness they had experienced while training had brought them closer emotionally, and they had begun to act in accordance without the need for discussion. Just to make things even more peculiar, they seemed to converse in their own language, a language of harsh fricatives and vicious glottals, and lots of flying spittle. When they spoke, it was as though they were declaring war on the world. Their eyes, however, told entirely another story.

They sat in the Prefect's compartment, the head boy and head girl looking more mature and magisterial than many of the staff at Hogwarts. Harry had allowed his hair to grow, and they both wore their hair in a single queue to between their shoulder blades. Somehow, Hermione's hair had begun to behave itself, no longer bushy and flyaway but sleek and slightly curled.

.

The prefects meeting over, Harry and Hermione patrolled the train, greeting their friends as they met them. Ron immediately started making snide comments.

"Grow up, Ron. Neither of us has the time or inclination to tolerate your puerile comments."

Ron goggled at Harry. Never had his best friend told him off like this, and especially using words not in Ron's dictionary.

"Harry, if you're going to be a pompous git like Percy …"

Harry reached out and easily lifted Ron by the collar.

"Consider very carefully your next words, Ron. Continue only if you no longer value our friendship."

Ron spluttered, and Harry put him down.

"Strewth, Harry, where'd you get them muscles?"

"From training, Ron. I don't think you want to know."

Ron looked completely nonplussed. "Okay, if you say so …"

"I do."

.

"Harry?"

"Hi Neville."

"Ummm …. are those really basilisk-hide boots you're wearing?"

"Yes Neville. Hermione has some too."

"I heard that they're really good."

Harry nodded. "Comfortable, and they should last a lifetime. They were pricey but they will be worth it."

"Um, Harry, what's happened to you and Hermione over the summer?"

"Muggle martial arts. Specialist philosophy and fighting techniques. Why?"

"It looks good on both of you. Ummmm …."

"Can we teach you?"

Neville nodded nervously.

"We can't teach you the weapons work yet, but everything else, if you want. You'll have to learn a new language, too."

"Language?"

"We're using tlhIngan Hol as a battle-tongue. No chance that any death eaters'll understand us. Besides, it's part of the philosophy. A lot of muggle-borns would understand."

Neville's face was now sporting a wide grin.

A voice drifted from the compartment.

"Harry Potter, nuqneH!" [Harry Potter, Hello]

"Luna, nuqneH!. tlhIngan Hol? jIyajbe' !" [Luna, Hello. Klingon? I don't understand.]

" HISlaH. tlhIngan maH, ghobe'?" [Yes. We are Klingons, no?]

Harry started laughing. "Yes, we are, Luna. I hardly expected anyone in the wizarding world to speak the language."

She stood, smiling dreamily.

"My mother enjoyed muggle science fiction. She passed her love of it on to me when she died. Somehow, I always felt an affinity for certain philosophies in the series. What have you done to yourself?"

"We've been training. Muggle fighting techniques, but Hermione and I are also getting into the whole philosophy too."

"I don't think that He-who-must-not-be-named will expect a bat'leth or a d'k tahg."

"Especially a d'k tahg with a wand along its axis, Luna."

Luna giggled. "Will you be training warriors, Harry?"

"Neville has asked me already. Are you interested?"

"Of course I am."

.

The sorting feast was largely uneventful, but for Professor McGonagall giving the welcoming speech and Professor Flitwick being her new deputy head. The new Defence teacher was none other than Alastor Moody. The _real_ Alastor Moody.

When Harry and Hermione were introduced to the school as head boy and girl, there were stares and mutterings because of the changes that had come over them. After the feast, McGonagall asked to see them briefly in her study.

"Before I allow you to go to your rooms, I need to ask what has happened over the summer that could produce such startling changes in you both."

Harry looked her in the eye. "I hope, Professor, that it might be the _Power He Knows Not_, or at least a part of it. Hermione and I have been training up in muggle martial arts and immersing ourselves in a particular philosophy that goes with it. We will be training early each morning and spending time meditating at odd intervals.

"Professor, do we have an accomplished legilimens in the school who could help us with our occlumancy?"

"I believe that professor Vector is who you need. Would you like me to speak with her?"

"Yes please, Professor."

"Look, the both of you, I know what it is that Albus has laid on you. If you can show that you are keeping up with your studies, I am willing to allow you both to skip classes occasionally to attend your _special classes_ outside of the school in order to deal with hunting down those evil things. But you're not to let your studies slip, understood?"

They nodded.

"Now, what happened with Ron? I see that he wasn't with you at all this evening."

"Professor, that is up to him. We've both had a cartload of his immaturity and whinging. He insulted us on the train and Harry had to put him down again. I feel that he has been holding us back academically and _practically_. We haven't discussed it at all, but I suspect that neither of us is certain of his loyalty any more."

The professor nodded.

"I understand," she said sadly. "Ronald has had a problem with his focus or quite some time."

Harry looked at her. "You mean he's lazy and self-centred, and has been lazy and self-centred since he arrived."

McGonagall's face cracked into a smile.

"Yes, Harry, I suppose I do. Now, you know where the head pupils' quarters are. The password is currently set as _MacAllister's Boots_. If you could wait for a short while, Miss Weasley will be arriving by floo in a few minutes. I'd appreciate if you would escort her to her common room."

They spent a few minutes discussing the homework that had been set over the summer, and the fact that they had read well ahead on their set texts.

"We're trying to keep at least six weeks ahead on our studies this year, Professor. Some of the defence material we've studied completely and have had a chance to practice to a degree. Harry managed to get a hold of some of the Black library, too."

There was a knock. "Come in, Alastor."

Moody stomped in. "Headmistress. It was these two I wanted."

"Professor Moody, we were going to find you tomorrow. We both have a big favour to ask."

He looked at the duo and raised his visible eyebrow.

"We would like you to help us to cast off the imperius curse. We know that it's not usual school policy, but if we gave you wizarding permission to cast unforgivables on us, would it be possible to help us?"

Moody nodded. "I know what it is you have to do. I will help. Anything else?"

Harry looked him in the eye. "Yes, Professor. I need to learn tolerance of the Cruciatus Curse. At some point I need to experience the curse itself and not the simulacrum I have managed to create."

"Simulacrum?"

Harry pulled out a pain-stick, pushing the crystal from it's sleeve in the end of the baton.

"The crystal carries a series of hexes that can be discharged on contact. Please be careful."

Moody touched the crystal to the back of his hand and grunted.

"Impressive."

Taking the stick back, Harry pressed the crystal to his thigh. He tensed but gave no outward sign of suffering pain.

He handed the stick to Hermione who did the same.

"Has it discharged?"

"No, Professor. It takes several hours of contact to stop causing pain."

Moody took the stick again, and once more let out an involuntary grunt as the crystal brushed his skin.

"Those could be classed as dark artefacts. I suggest you keep them hidden."

"We intend to Professor. We use them only in our own training. From experience, pain causes you to tire quickly in combat. By being able to throw off pain, it holds no further fear for us, nor does it tire us as it did. We had taken to duelling each other without shields, just using pain hexes to prove the point."

"That's insane."

"No, Professor. Harry needs to have an edge - and more than one if he can. If you want to watch one of our training sessions, we'll be in the room of requirement from about six tomorrow morning."

"I will be there."

"And so will I. This sounds extremely … unusual."

At that moment the headmistress's fire flared green and Ginny Weasley stepped out. She looked less than well.

"H-hello …"

"Miss Weasley, welcome back. How are you feeling now?"

"Much better, thank you Professor. The healers say that I'll ache for a few days yet."

"Hi Ginny."

"Harry! Hermione! I didn't recognise you!"

"I think that's all of our business for tonight. I will wish you all a good night and I will see you both in the morning."

Harry and Hermione took Ginny back to the Gryffindor common room.

"What happened, Ginny?"

"Ron happened. Could we not talk about it?"

"Okay, Ginny. Just one thing, was it accident, temper or deliberate?"

The redhead turned to Hermione with tears in her eyes. "Oh, Hermione … I'm not sure. It wasn't an accident, that's certain."

"What provoked him to hit you?"

"I – I'm not sure."

"Ginny, if he causes any more trouble at all, you tell us. He's already earned some _treatment_ by Harry for being a total git. He's changed, and not for the better."

She looked at the duo.

"I thought that … well, loyalty and …"

"Loyalty goes both ways, Ginny."

They gave the Fat Lady the password and entered the common room. Neville was sat there.

"Ginny!"

She ran to him and they hugged.

"Neville, I gather that Ron beat her up and that's why she came by floo. Any more trouble from Ron, let us know and we'll take it further. Okay?"

"Thanks, guys. We'll see you in the morning."

.

At five thirty, Harry and Hermione were in the Room of Requirement, warming up. Thirty minutes of stretching, stamina and strength exercises later Professors McGonagall and Moody entered.

"Good morning, Professors. Please excuse us if we continue."

"Good morning. How long have you been here?"

"About thirty minutes, just warming up before our training proper."

Harry and Hermione then proceeded to perform a series of _katas_, sequences of set-moves that strengthened stances, blocks and blows.

Then they sparred. Fists, feet, knees and elbows. Blows, blocks and throws.

They were fast. They were strong. They made both professors wince repeatedly.

Then out came the weapons, more _katas_, and then sparring. McGonagall was pale as one of the Hogwarts ghosts by the time the pair took a break.

"That was incredible. You say that this is muggle fighting?"

"This is muggle martial arts – the art of personal combat, as opposed to brawling. We're now going to show you how this fits in with our duelling. We both have new wands for this, so don't be surprised. Oh, and I'll ask you to keep your own shields ready, just in case of a stray hex."

The duo squared up, with a wand in each hand. A bow and a nod, and then hexes and shields flickered and strobed. The two teachers noticed that neither used shields to stop the others hexes, they swept the shielding wand, literally knocking the incoming hexes off-course.

Finally, after holstering their wands, the pair took out pain sticks, and looking each other in the eye, pressed the sticks into each other's shoulder, and simply stood.

As the minutes ticked on, they began to sweat slightly. An imperceptible signal and they stood back.

A few minutes of warm-down exercise and their training session was complete.

"Mr Potter, Miss Granger. I must ask you to please never subject me to that again. I have never seen anyone using two wands like _that_ before. I don't believe I have ever been so terrified in my life!"

"I must complement you both on an unusually fought duel. You would give any number of aurors a run for their money at least. And if those pain wands are what you showed us last night, I have no doubt that you'd be able to withstand a crucio as well. It is quite possible that you would resist a stunner without problem.

"Just one question, that _avaraka_ hex with the pale green light, what was it?"

Hermione smiled. "I found it in one of Sirius's books. It's the root curse that was used to create the killing curse. It causes crippling pain."

Moody nodded. "But you were both hit by it… Ah."

.

The four left the room and went their separate ways. Harry and Hermione for a shower, McGonagall and Moody for a cup of tea and, perhaps, something to calm their nerves.

On their way, McGonagall asked, "truthfully, what did you think?"

Moody grunted. "Quite honestly, I wouldn't want to cross either of those two without, or even with backup. Did you see the length of the wands they were using?"

"Quite short."

"I've never seen anyone use a wand much under nine inches before, at least, not to any effect. And those aren't Ollivander's wands either. Those are what we usually recommend for aurors. Horribly expensive but very effective. I notice they are using arm holsters for their new wands, and boot holsters for their old."

"I think that the wizarding world is quite safe in Mr Potter's hands. Did you notice anything else, Alastor?"

"Only that they are in love, Minerva."

"Precisely."

.


	4. 4: Ascension

**tlhIngan maH! (We Are Klingons)**

by Polydicta

**Summary:**

Harry knows that he will meet Voldemort. With the headmaster dead and the underage magic detectors damaged, he decides to give himself an 'edge'. A Crossunder between the worlds of Harry Potter and Start Trek fandom.

What happens when Harry is exposed to a fictional character with a worthwhile warrior ethos? What happens when Harry and company decide to emulate a fictional warrior race. What happens when their training makes them physically strong, immune to pain and magically powerful?

_tlhInganpu_, is what.

**Author's Forward:**

This is NOT a Star Trek / HP crossover! – it's a HP/Trekkie crossunder. The Klingon stuff is based (loosely) on Star Trek (Next Generation) material.

In speech, text enclosed in square brackets [ ] is the Klingon/English translation

**Disclaimer: **

All fiction is derivative and fan fiction doubly so. I make no claim to own any part of any of the following, all I have done is an attempt to put together the elements in a novel fashion, using words and ideas like Lego ™ bricks.

Star Trek, Klingon and everything pertaining are copyright items and the property of Paramount Studios and the Estate of Gene Roddenberry. No infringement on those rights is intended.

There is no money involved – all I do is to share what I do for my own amusement.

-::::::::-

**tlhIngan maH! (We Are Klingons) - Part 4: Ascension**

The end of October arrived, and with it Halloween. Neville, Luna and Ginny had been training with Harry and Hermione.

The fat boy, Neville was being slowly replaced by the athletic youth Neville. His physique was becoming muscular rather than soft. Ginny was becoming more muscular, but in the same pleasant way that Harry saw in Hermione. Luna had lost some of her vague, willowiness and was becoming a more positive personality, her strange looks now becoming less strange as her body grew in new ways.

Ron, on the other hand, had drifted ever further from the duo.

"Harry, I need to talk about Ron."

"I know. I'm sad that he's drifted away from us, 'Mione. But it was Ron's choice. I'm sorry that he wasn't willing to commit himself to anything."

"That's not what I want to say, Harry."

He looked at her quizzically.

"I wanted to tell you that it's over between Ron and myself. Heck, Harry, it never really started. I suppose I was jealous of other girls dating fellas."

"Oh? Well, I'm sorry it never worked out for you, 'Mione. Really I am. Is there anyone you fancy now?"

She could hear the sincerity in his voice. He really was concerned for her.

She blushed slightly.

"Well, Harry, yes there is."

His head drooped.

She continued, "there always was someone. Ever since he leapt on the back of a fully-grown mountain troll to save me."

Harry's head snapped up again, his eyes alight with something Hermione couldn't really identify.

"Hermione, do you really mean that?"

She nodded.

"Well, 'Mione, I have a bit of a confession to make … when Ron called you a nightmare, I nearly punched him then and there. As soon as I heard you choke, I wanted to go to you, but you were too fast. And then the chance was past, and things were happening too quickly.

"Besides, I didn't want to lose my first ever friend, but I have known for a long time that you were more important to me than Ron. You were always there for me.

"I wish that I'd asked you to the Yule Ball before Viktor, but I didn't really see you as a girl, as a young woman until that night. Until then Hermione, you were my best friend in all the world, even more than Ron.

"I love you, Hermione, and I always have."

She threw herself at him and bit his cheek, drawing blood. He never flinched.

"Tasting my blood and getting my scent then?"

She giggled. "I already knew what you smell like. Pine forests, woodland ferns and sandalwood soap."

He pulled back and looked at her. "Really?"

She nodded.

"It's funny, you always smell of libraries, beeswax, vanilla and roses. And some …"

He inhaled deeply.

"… yes, ancient stonework."

"Tease!"

"No, truthfully. You smell like that amortentia potion that we had to brew last year."

"Pardon? But you smell quite different, and you smell … um."

"How amortentia smells to you?"

She nodded mutely.

"If we took it together, it would make no difference, would it?"

She stared.

She stared some more.

He kissed her to stop her staring.

"I love you, 'Mione…"

"Mmmmm."

.

Being Saturday, they had an extended training session in the Room of Requirement. Harry needed to re-charge the pain sticks, and added an extra curse to two of them. He added the cruciatus curse. Moody watched him perform the re-charging.

"These are the ones we use when training together. You notice that the crystals are red instead of blue. We decided to make just the two for this purpose."

"That's some nasty magic you're using there, Harry. Very advanced dark magic."

"There's a muggle saying, Professor, _know thine enemy_. We can't train against most of the curses and hexes that could be used against us, but the cruciatus and imperius curses are two of the Death Eaters' favourites, and we can learn to throw them off."

Harry touched his thigh with the stick he had just completed and grunted.

"May I try that, harry?"

"Sure thing, Professor."

Moody pressed the crystal to his own thigh and screamed.

Sweating profusely and looking shaken, he handed the weapon to Harry.

"If I thought that you intended to use that on anyone else, I'd have you shipped off to Azkaban here and now. That is a seriously nasty piece of work, Harry. What else is there in there?"

"Well, the cruciatus curse is accompanied by stinging hexes, bludgeoning curses, shocking hexes, _avaraka_ and a few others I picked up. Nothing that causes physical damage."

"Harry, the bludgeoning curse causes damage."

"Not if it isn't cast directly. If you could slow the curse to a snail's pace, it would just hurt the same without bruising. That's effectively what happens when it's in the crystal."

"That stick of yours, Harry, is worse than any _crucio_ that I could cast, even if I could cast it on you with any real force. I don't hate you enough."

Moody grinned. "How do you get the hate behind it?"

"Oh, while I put the curse into the crystal, I just think about using the pain sticks on Voldemort. Now _him_ I hate."

The five trained hard and at the end they used their pain sticks on each other, Neville, Ginny and Luna breaking off after a few seconds.

Harry and Hermione simply stood, staring into each other's eyes, tense but silent. After a few minutes they withdrew the sticks.

"How do you do that?"

"It's just a part of the training, Neville. Tolerance to pain is good. Neither of us enjoys the pain, and neither of us enjoys inflicting it, but we intend to be able to throw off the cruciatus curse by the time I have to face Voldemort. It also helps us to reinforce our mutual trust. You three are well along the road, too, where Hermione and I were in mid-August. Once you're past the first half minute, you will be able to hold off ending the pain for minutes at a time."

"Um, Hermione, why are your crystals a different colour to ours?"

"It's because these are a lot more powerful than yours, Ginny. Harry has put the cruciatus curse into ours on top of the other hexes."

"May I?"

"Be careful."

Ginny yelped and then tried it again, this time only letting out a grunt of pain. She passed the stick to Neville and Luna who did the same.

Moody looked on. "Can I try that?"

Bracing for the pain, he touched the crystal to his thigh and yelled.

"I have no idea what you five have done, but I'm impressed. Harry, Hermione, I think it's time I fulfilled our agreement."

"In which case, Professor … I, Harry James Potter, hereby request before witnesses, upon my magic, that my friend Alastor Moody uses the unforgivable Cruciatus Curse and the unforgivable Imperius Curse upon me as a part of my continued programme of training. So Mote It Be."

Hermione stood forward.

" I, Hermione Jean Granger, hereby request before witnesses, upon my magic, that my friend Alastor Moody uses the unforgivable Cruciatus Curse and the unforgivable Imperius Curse upon me as a part of my continued programme of training. So Mote It Be."

She produced two memory vials and Harry and she extracted copies of the memory of their magical oath for their professor.

"Last chance to back out, people."

The both nodded. "Do it," they chorused.

"_Crucio_!"

Harry stood looking mildly at Moody, raised his wands and cast his Patronus simultaneously with both. Moody broke off the curse. He cast the same curse on Hermione who also cast her patronus while under the full force of Moody's curse.

The old auror was flabbergasted.

"Never before have I seen anyone able to resist that curse beyond a few choice words between screams. You didn't even flinch, either of you. Now, I'm going to try to get you to do something that you'd be happy doing, and I want you to resist."

"Okay. Let's try it."

"_Imperio_!"

Harry felt the warm fuzziness settle over his mind and then he was suddenly angry. The anger passed immediately but the influence of the curse never returned.

He turned and looked at Moody who was massaging some feeling back into his hand.

"I have no idea what you just did, but it certainly worked. It was like that pain-stick to my wand hand, and it was from my wand."

"Sorry, professor, I'm not sure what happened, but I didn't intend to hurt you."

"Damn hurting me Lad, that was impressive. I could feel the curse affecting you and then you simply threw it off. You want to try, Miss?"

Hermione nodded.

"_Imperio_!"

Suddenly Moody yelled and was disarmed.

Without any apparent consultation Neville then Ginny and Luna made the same formal request of Moody.

"Are you sure?"

All three nodded. "We have to know," was all that Neville said.

Each in turn stood before moody under each curse. They stood unflinching under the cruciatus curse, letting out a small grunt of pain as the curse was applied. Each nodded and said _thank you_ while under the curse, indicating that they had experienced sufficient pain.

All three threw off the Imperius curse, though without the backlash that Harry and Hermione had sent.

Moody bowed to the five of them.

"That was frankly startling. You five are certainly a force to be reckoned with. I just hope we never find ourselves on opposing sides. Your next stage of training must be many against one, as death eaters have no love of even odds."

"Thank you Professor. Hermione and I would like to invite you and Professor McGonagall you our Rite of Ascension tomorrow afternoon, in here. And you Neville, Luna and Ginny. Plus of course a guest each."

Luna looked at them. "You're planning to go through the rite? With the pain sticks?"

Harry nodded. "It is a rite of passage that we both feel that we need. You know that we have immersed ourselves as fully as possible, so you will understand that it is part of what we are doing."

"We'll be here, both of you. We wouldn't miss your Ascension Rite for anything. Are your parents coming, Hermione?"

"Yes, Luna, but they're not sure what it is. Will you tell them?"

Luna nodded. "I'll prepare a pensieve memory for them as well as for the professors."

"Thank you Luna. There will be party nibbles after."

.

Later that afternoon, working quietly in the library, the Headmistress interrupted the pair.

"Professor Moody has told me what happened this morning. In the long years that I've known him he has never expressed concern and delight that someone could actually best him in a duel. He also tells me that you have invited me to this rite of passage tomorrow.

"Of course I will be there, but what does it involve?"

"We will be walking a gauntlet of twelve individuals who will use our pain sticks against us, attempting to prevent us from completing the fifteen yards from one end to the other. It is simply a rite of passage, the completion of our journey to become warriors. Proof, if you will, that we are ready. Neville, Luna and Ginny will almost certainly hold their own rites when they are ready.

"There will be a few other friends attending. The gauntlet will be magical simulacra of twelve adult wizards and witches, but that is all they will be, simulacra."

"But the pain will be real?"

"Yes professor, the pain will be real. It wouldn't be a Rite of Ascension if the pain were less than real. The ability to endure pain is the ability to assault death eaters when _they_ think they're going to torture us."

"Now, what about Albus's special project?"

Hermione smiled. "Harry found one while searching through the junk-room aspect of the room of requirement. Another was in HQ, in Kreacher's possession."

"Oh? And the others?"

Harry pointed at his scar. "That's one," he said. "the cup is another, but it's in a vault at the bank. The last one is in his snake. The ring and the diary are already gone."

McGonagall nodded.

.

Sunday morning dawned clear and bright. The five were out in the grounds working out before breakfast. Unusually for Ronald Weasley, he was up and about, and he approached the five.

"What's this rubbish then?"

Ginny answered. "It's muggle martial arts. Physical fighting techniques that benefit us physically, mentally and magically."

"Makes you look like a load of idiots, that's what it is."

"As you wish Ron. If you don't like it, just stay out of our way."

Suddenly, he was rounding on her with his wand drawn. As Ginny side-stepped his _reducto_, she cast a stunner on him that threw him fifty yards across the grass.

Moody, who had been disillusioned and watching the training session saw and heard all.

Reappearing, he said, "that's excellent Miss Weasley. I saw and heard. I'll deal with your brother if you wish. Molly told me what happened before the beginning of term. Oh, and fifty points to Gryffindor for not using a lethal charm."

Ginny blushed.

"Thank you, Professor," she managed.

Moody bent over Ron Weasley and pulled up the unconscious boy's sleeves, revealing a tattoo on his left forearm.

Ginny gasped and the other four groaned.

"Ron, you prat. What have you done?"

"Betrayed you all, Harry. At least he won't be any problem here now."

Moody cast _levicorpus_ and took their stunned ex-friend away.

After lunch the five were called to the Headmistress's office where they found a magically manacled Ron, several aurors and an incandescent Molly Weasley.

The five were all politely asked to show their forearms and told to sit.

"You know why we're here, so I won't bother beating around the bush. For those who don't know me, I am Auror Shacklebolt.

"Since this person here appears to have taken the Dark Mark, I need to obtain pensieve memories from the five of you. Preferably covering the whole term, if possible. Professor Moody has already supplied his. Are you willing to give this testimony?"

The five nodded and began drawing out memories as requested. Hermione had taught the others how to draw out copies of memories, rather than removing the details altogether from their heads.

Ginny supplied memories from the summer holiday as well, allowing them to conclude when he had taken the mark.

"Why Ron? You were our friend? What did Tom promise you?"

The evil in Ron's eye glinted coldly. "He said I could have the mudblood bitch to do what I wanted with just so long as she died eventually."

Harry stood and looked into Ron's eyes.

"You have proven yourself faithless and dishonourable. You have betrayed your friends and your family, assuming that we ever were truly friends. I curse you and your memory, I curse your being and your spirit. If I ever see you again I shall kill you without remorse. There will be no other warning."

He spat on Ron's boots and pointedly turned his back.

The others, each in turn, repeated Harry's words and actions. The five stood facing away from their former friend with their arms folded.

Molly Weasley walked around them and looked at them.

"What about the rest of the family?"

Harry smiled thinly. "Unless there's something you need to tell me about affiliations with Moldivort, I have no quarrel with you or yours, other than your son. Indeed, quite the opposite."

Molly smiled wanly before going and slapping Ron's face, splitting his lip and making his nose bleed. He would have a black eye by tonight.

"You have proven yourself faithless and dishonourable. You have betrayed your friends and your family. I curse you and your memory, I curse your being and your spirit. If I ever see you again I shall kill you. You are no child of mine."

She turned her back on her son.

"Kingsley?"

"Yes Harry?"

"Just before you go, I'd like you to attend our Rite of Ascension ceremony this evening, if you would? Hermione and I are celebrating ours together."

"I have no idea what it is, Harry, but I would be delighted to attend. Here at the school?"

The headmistress replied. "Yes. If you floo here, we will go up together."

The arrangements were completed and Ron was taken away. He was never again seen at Hogwarts.

The afternoon was occupied by Harry and Hermione preparing for their coming of age ritual. Harry charged up the two pain sticks almost to overflowing, and planned to _geminio_ them immediately prior to their rites.

"These are more potent than we've been using, 'Mione. Remember that the object is to reach the end, not to do so in silence."

"I know. I'm looking forward to the rite being over. I'm looking forward to … afterward."

Harry smiled at her. "So am I."

.

Harry called Dobby and Winky to him, and warned them what he and Hermione were going to do that evening. Harry warned them to not try to save them because the pain was an important part of the ritual.

Dobby's eyes were wide with wonder and became tear filled when Hermione invited him to attend their ceremony as a friend.

.

When their guests arrived at the Room of Requirement, the door was open and they were amazed to see a dimly fire-lit chamber built of dark, greenish stone with complex inlaid patterns in the floor. There were nine green-cloaked and hooded figures standing impassively on blocks of stone, each with a metal rod in his or her hand, and each rod bearing a glowing, red crystal.

Neville and Ginny greeted the guests on behalf of Harry and Hermione and asked them to stand to one side.

The headmistress noted grimly that there were house-elves present as well as Griphook representing the Goblin Nation. She placed herself close to Molly Weasley.

"Molly, this will be startling and, quite possibly, harrowing for you. These two have done remarkable things this term, and believe me, what they will go through today is intended to burn out the last vestiges of their fear. I have seen them training, and incredible though it may seem, they can withstand this."

"What are those wands?"

"They are pain sticks. Harry invented them. I have seen them use those things on each other without flinching, and they made Moody yelp. They have actually made themselves immune to the cruciatus curse."

Molly looked terribly afraid and held tight to her husband whose eyes were grimly taking in the brutality of the setting. A setting that bespoke of harsh times and an even harsher, well, he supposed, religion.

Poppy Pomfrey emerged from a screened-off part of the chamber with Harry's pensieve. She stood to one side.

Once everyone was present, the door was closed with a resounding thump, and Luna began the ritual, explaining that the Rite of Ascension was a rite of passage for warriors, and that the rite had existed in one form or another in every warrior culture known.

"In the mists of time long gone, the one law was _the strongest shall survive_. All children who lived to adulthood were by definition strong.

"When mankind began to live in cities the trials of daily survival no longer existed, but still the one law was _the strongest shall survive_.

"When men began to wage war, the trials of war also determined that the one law was _the strongest shall survive_.

"In war, the strongest warrior must be beaten on the anvil of battle and tempered in the fires of conflict. At each stage the warrior must be tested. Today is that time of testing.

"Today, two warriors come of age and take their battle names. Harry James of the House of Potter claims the battle name Q'rzan. Hermione Jane of the line of Granger and consort to the House of Potter claims the battle name Lenkja.

"To prove their worthiness, they must pass the fifteen yards of pain. So mote it be."

She, Neville and Ginny took station on the last three stones, and brought out their pain sticks. The twelve began a low, gutteral chant. The words were unclear to the witnesses, but the emotion behind the words was clear.

.

The first to emerge from the screened area was Harry. He was stripped to the waist, muscles rippling. Below the waist he wore a pair of skirt-like floor-length trousers.

"I Harry James, being of age claim my name by rite of passage!"

He walked to the path between the two rows of wizards and witches, and began to walk. Each pair of attendants pressed their pain sticks to Harry's body, making him writhe somewhat and to cry out occasionally with the pain.

It took several minutes for him to reach his three friends who did him the honour of applying their own sticks to his flesh. At last he was through, and the twelve hailed him as Q'rzan.

Next came Hermione. She was dressed as Harry, but for a linen wrap around her breasts. She too endured the gauntlet of pain, taking the same time as Harry, and was eventually hailed by the twelve as Lenkja.

Luna collected the pain sticks from the simulacra and placed them in a box, so that the collapse of the _geminio_ would result in just the original two pain sticks being present.

Then there was the reception. The two teens were damp with sweat, their torsos being covered with bruises from the intense magic used in the ritual.

Pomfrey was incredulous, she had managed to get the two to allow her to monitor them as they went through the rite. Both had, indeed, felt incredible pain, but neither had ended with an unduly raised heart rate or blood pressure. They could have been for a brisk walk for all that she could tell.

.

Dobby and Winky were in tears, and Griphook was the first to commend them.

"This rite is not unlike the Goblin ceremony for the coming of age of our young warriors. I welcome you both."

As the guests were leaving, Moody took Harry aside.

"What was the difference? Those sticks don't normally elicit a sound from either of you."

"I turned up the juice a bit. Right now these sticks are capable of delivering multiple simultaneous crucios at the same time as the other curses and hexes. These are about as powerful as I can make them without bursting the crystals."

Moody picked one of the sticks up and brushed his thigh with it. He yelped loudly and collapsed into a chair, visibly dazed.

"You two … but … those are … minutes!"

"Professor? Look, it's just practice, right?"

"Harry, that was like being hit with a _reducto_. No, worse! I hope I never feel anything like that again, but you …"

"Like I say, Professor, its just practice."

Moody nodded vaguely and finished his drink before levering himself up and heading to his quarters.

The Grangers were talking to McGonagall and Hermione.

"Harry, Hermione's trying to explain those sticks. How much of a punch do they actually pack?"

"Mr Granger, I can't really describe it, but if I were to touch one of them to your body then there is a good chance it would kill you. The crystals were at maximum capacity when I finished charming them earlier."

"And you allowed …?"

"We have no illusions, Sir. We know how much we can take, and we have been training together since the summer. Hermione was quite safe."

"There's one other thing, Hermione, Consort to House Potter?"

"It has a slightly different meaning in magical terms. A magical consort if the person who stands beside you, who binds him or her self to you. The relationship is not necessarily sexual.

"I have, however asked Hermione to consider our formal betrothal. As a consequence, I would like to ask your permission to ask for her hand in marriage."

Mr Granger spluttered while his wife smiled.

"But you hardly know …"

Harry cut him off. "We have known each other for the past six years. For most of that time we have been almost inseparable. In that time we have become friends and more than friends. We have stood side by side in battle. That friendship and trust has steadily become love – first the love between close friends and battle partners and gradually that has turned to romantic love.

"We may not be terribly conventional in our behaviour. Our dates have hardly been the traditional teenage dates, if our classmates are anything to go by. We have done our share of snuggling under trees in the grounds and, no, we don't feel the need to put the broom closets to the more common usage.

"The point is that we are secure in each others' love and we want to make it official, if you like. Hermione is already named as my heir; should I die she will get everything."

Emma Granger looked at her daughter. "Darling you're not …?"

"Mother! I'll have you know that …"

"Well, Dear, I'm glad that I can still get a rise out of you. Just be careful, and be sure of what you're doing."

"We are, Mum. Besides, there's no divorce in the wizarding world."

"Pardon?"

"There _is_ no divorce for wizards. For death us do part or forever is mean precisely what they say. It's called a wizard's oath, and is enforced by the magic. That is why the wizarding wedding oaths don't specify exclusivity. Besides, promising to love and to honour are also enforced. Once the oath is made, you will love and honour."

"Oh," was the whole of the Grangers' response.

.

By Christmas Neville, Luna and Ginny were ready to undergo their own Ascension Rites. By this time, Harry and Hermione were using the _ascension_ pain sticks in their regular training. Harry had ordered more titanium bar from the aerospace company and had made sets of weapons for the three. Outside of company, the five of them barely spoke a word of English.

Neville had ceased to be the overweight teenager he had been, and his Gran barely recognised him when she saw him on the day of his Ascension Rite.

Luna had invited her boyfriend to attend her Ascension, and the others were surprised to find that said boyfriend was an American muggle. He was fascinated by the fact of the rite, being a fan of the television series.

"I never realised that the wizarding world had these rites in. I mean, I thought they were just fiction."

"For the most part, they are, Gene, it's just that there are a few of us who have found that it is appropriate for us to base our training on the Klingon ethos. Learning to ignore pain gives us an edge against the Death Eaters."

"So, the pain sticks … ?"

"Are a lot worse that you can imagine. You're welcome to try one of the introductory ones if you really must."

Luna handed him a pain stick with a blue crystal. He touched the crystal on his thigh and yelled.

"If that's low power, what are the ones you use in the rite like?"

"They could kill you quite easily. Even after training with the higher powered sticks, these will still raise bruises."

And so were born Torras, Katja and Skanna of the house of Koorg.

.


	5. 5: Skirmishes

**tlhIngan maH! (We Are Klingons)**

by Polydicta

**Summary:**

Harry knows that he will meet Voldemort, and decides to give himself an 'edge'

A Crossunder between the worlds of Harry Potter and Start Treck fandom.

**Additional warnings**

Some nasty curses are going to be used - moderately graphic death scenes.

**Author's Forward:**

This is NOT a Star Trek / HP crossover! – it's a HP/Trekkie crossunder. The Klingon stuff is based (loosely) on Star Trek (Next Generation) material.

In speech, text enclosed in square brackets [ ] is the Klingon/English translation

**Disclaimer: **

All fiction is derivative and fan fiction doubly so. I make no claim to own any part of any of the following, all I have done is an attempt to put together the elements in a novel fashion, using words and ideas like Lego ™ bricks.

Star Trek, Klingon and everything pertaining are copyright items and the property of Paramount Studios and the Estate of Gene Roddenberry. No infringement on those rights is intended.

There is no money involved – all I do is to share what I do for my own amusement.

-::::::::-

**tlhIngan maH! (We Are Klingons) - Part 2: Skirmishes**

The Hogwarts Express deposited the students in London, and the five had agreed to stay at the Leaky Cauldron for a couple of nights so that they could do their _specialist_ shopping. Six more wands were purchased from _Tobias Agonistes Septus_, along with boots and gloves. The three also received multi-compartment trunks. Three more brooms and flying robes from QQS, and Quuirr's sold more hiking equipment, which had the tracers and spy charms removed as soon as they were back in their rooms.

"Why do they put them on their stuff, anyway?"

"Simple, Neville, they think the information may be useful to someone. They probably claim that if someone goes missing, then they can be found by the tracers on their equipment. Anyone who takes the tracers off is obviously too dangerous to bother."

Neville chuckled. "We're dangerous all right."

"So, what names did you use?"

"Torrs Gowron and Katjana Mogh. Luna used Minka Stanislav."

The blonde girl grinned. "I've always wanted to be a character from a book."

"I don't know how any of us is going to pay you back, Harry …"

"Neville, I thought we had sorted this out. This is the same as a private army. This stuff is your basic field kit. If _you_ are properly equipped, then _I_ stand a better chance of dealing with Moldivort. …"

There was the sound of a series of loud cracks in the Alley, and then the sound of fighting.

"Looks like game on, guys?"

The five quickly gathered themselves together and left to join the fray.

.

Five figures in dark green cloaks, each in basilisk-skin boots and gloves and carrying two wands strode along Diagon Alley. The Death Eaters were throwing lethal curses and unforgivables at all and sundry. The five simply worked their way along, deflecting and dodging curses while simultaneously firing off their own spells. They passed comments and information in a language alien to the Death Eaters, a language designed for battle.

The Death Eaters were shaken by the unknown wizards simply ignoring the red bolts of stunners, allowing themselves to be hit as though the pain of a stunner were nothing.

"_Crucio_!"

Lucius Malfoy was startled to see that his cruciatus curse, born of his hatred for all humankind, was simply absorbed without so much as a blink.

"_Imperio_!"

Lucius's hand was blown to dust by the backlash of the curse being thrown off by the unrecognisable Harry.

Bellatrix Lestrange was there and cast her own Cruciatus curse, hitting Neville.

He smiled at her and, holding her gaze simply said, " nuqneH Bellatrix_._" [Hello Bellatrix]

A dark expression crossed his face and he cast a bodybind on the woman. In Klingon.

"_ghobe' SIH porgh_" [_petrificus totalis_]

Bella's eyes widened as Neville unclipped a pain-stick from his belt.

As he extended the glowing, red crystal from the shield, he gently said, "Bellatrix, you are are your master's acknowledged _Mistress of Pain_ are you not? Allow me to introduce you to my 'oy'naQ, my tlhIngan pain stick. You may find it … enlightening …"

He pressed it against his own chest and grunted.

Smiling, he extended it toward Bellatrix' sternum.

"Goodbye, Bellatrix Lestrange. May you never reach sto'vo'kor."

He pressed the crystal against her and, even though petrified, her muscles clenched hard enough to cause permanent damage. A moment later she was dead, a trickle of blood leaving her ears, nose and tear-ducts.

Bellatrix took a moment to realise that she was, in fact, dead … a moment filled with the sum of all of the cruciatus curses she had delivered in her life concentrated into a mere half second. An agonised eternity as her brain finally shut down, a whisp of smoke rising from the point at which Neville had discharged his pain stick into her untrained torso.

He smiled grimly as he returned to the battle, his debt of honour settled with his parents' attacker.

.

By the time the aurors arrived, there was little to do but to pick up the remains of death eaters and to arrest the unconscious ones. A small number of wizards and witches had been killed or injured by the Death Eaters, but they had lost twenty of their number. Lucius Malfoy was found bleeding out his life, his left arm pinned to a door with a knife; he was missing the sleeve that normally hid the Dark Mark on his arm.

He died before he reached St Mungo's.

.

The Dark Lord was incandescent with fury. He had intended the attack to be a nice little gift to his minions, a chance to spread a little terror for Christmas. Instead, he was hearing reports that a group of vigilantes had simply waded through his people and killed or captured most of them.

He was even more upset when the report in The Prophet simply stated that the five members of House Koorg claimed to have done their civic duty in defending the less powerful when the Death Eaters attacked. The spokesman for House Koorg seemed to think the Death Eaters were rather overrated as opponents.

There was much speculation about who these wizards were who had simply wiped out a death eater attack without seeming to make any effort. Voldemort, a student of wizarding genealogy, knew nothing of any Koorg family, so presumably they were Eastern European, which jibed with the tongue they spoke.

The five were almost helpless with laughter when they read the report. True, they had taken a few injuries, but as Hermione mentioned, even _sectum sempera_ seemed to be little worse than a paper cut with the amount of magical power they were channelling.

She never mentioned that Dolohov had escaped after firing off his Dark Fire curse at her. Again. She had simply deflected it into the ground. She knew that Harry would go after him for it if she did.

They compared their spoils of war, a collection of Death Eaters' wands. They were tried for magical match, and each took the best as hold-outs, filling the various spare holsters about their persons.

"You do realise that we're carrying a ridiculous number of wands each, don't you?"

"Well, as that guy in the movies said, _you can never have too much backup_. Besides, these are disposable."

Harry looked at Neville, and one of the wands he was holding.

"Neville?"

The boy looked up, a vicious grin on his lips. "Yes, Harry, it's Bellatrix Lestrange's wand. I used my painstick on her. We are both avenged against her for our losses. Sonchi! " [she is dead]

Hermione winced at that. "How long?"

Neville grimaced. "Less than a second, I'm afraid. I had hoped she was made of sterner stuff, but she was pujwI'. Disappointing, really." [a weakling, soft]

Hermione resolved to make a very special painstick for when she next met Dolohov. She decided that she could hold a grudge after all.

.

From London Harry and Hermione apparated to the Grangers' home, arriving behind the shed in the garden.

As they emerged, they were surprised to find Hermione's parents practising martial arts on the lawn.

"Hi Mum, Dad!"

"Hello dear. Welcome home. We'll just warm down and we'll be right with you."

.

They talked over a cup of tea.

"So, how come the martial arts stuff?"

"Well, we saw what you were doing over the summer and when Harry left behind some of his books, we decided to give it a try."

"Okay, Mum, but why?"

"You haven't heard all the news from our world have you? There have been loads of _terrorist _attacks around the country. From what you said, we don't think it's muggle terrorists."

"Death eaters?"

The Grangers nodded.

"That makes sense. You need to take a look at this …"

Harry handed Emma Granger the copy of The Prophet that the five had been laughing over.

"Five members of House Koorg? You mean …?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes Mum, that was us. Even some of the nastier curses that they were using barely stung."

"But there were dead Death Eaters …"

Harry nodded. "The only way to keep a Death Eater from hurting someone is to deal with them hard. What no one is _actually_ saying is that this is _actually_ war. The five of us intend to end this war as quickly and as cleanly as possible.

"Unfortunately, I'm under a geas, a prophesy that says that I am the only one who can ultimately defeat old Moldivort, but to do that I need people who I can trust to not get killed getting me into position. That is what House Koorg is about: winning a secret war."

"So who are these people named as Death Eaters? Three Lestranges, a Malfoy … those are names I've heard."

"Most of them are just ordinary thugs and bullies. Some are prominent figures in wizarding society – or particularly infamous Death Eaters. Three Lestranges means that that family is extinct now. I wonder who gets to inherit the cup?"

"The cup?"

"One of Tom Riddle's horcruxes. Really nasty, dark magic of the worst kind. They keep him immortal. For the time being, anyway."

The conversation circled round for a while, finally being interrupted by a tapping at the window.

Hermione retrieved the parchment from the large, tawny owl.

"It's for you, Harry. I think the owl is waiting for a reply."

While Harry read the letter, Hermione found the owl a few owl treats.

"It's from Griphook. It seems that after the fines and confiscations, the residuum of the Lestrange estate comes to me. We need to go to see Griphook as soon as possible."

Harry looked at the clock and did some arithmetic.

"Today seems reasonable."

He took out a quill and wrote a note to Griphook saying that he would be arriving at Gringotts' at about four that same afternoon. He gave the note to the owl and sent it on its way.

"Right, we'll be going as soon as possible. I want to be there before two."

"But you said …"

"Mrs Granger, I lied. I want to be at Gringotts' before the owl arrives. Owls can be intercepted, apparators can't, especially when they arrive before the message arrives. We'll eat at Diagon Alley."

"We're coming too."

Harry looked at Hermione's parents. "Are you sure? Side-along apparation is pretty nasty for the passenger."

Emma nodded. "Yes, we're sure. Besides, this is our war as much as yours now."

Another owl arrived, one that Harry recognised as one of the school's

"It's from the Headmistress, checking to see that we arrived home alright."

Hermione wrote a message back to Professor McGonagall, telling her that they had seen The Prophet, but were home in one piece. She also wrote a series of arithmantic equations.

"What are those?"

"They're page references, line and word, to be precise. It's a kind of secret code, but you have to know which book I'm referring to. It just says _we will floo later_."

Harry laughed. "I love magic, and I think I love cloak and dagger too."

"Well, you are both wearing the cloaks, and I guess those really are daggers in your boots, aren't they?"

Harry and Hermione blushed.

"We're so used to being armed all the time …"

.

While the Grangers showered, Harry transfigured them wizarding robes and two of the pain-sticks to resemble wands.

"I don't want you to stand out as Muggles, so please wear these. The wands are two of our pain-sticks. They're only partially charged, but will deliver quite a nasty surprise to anyone you touch with the tip of the wand, they are, of course, not wands at all. The holsters for these are in the front of the robes. Are you both okay with this?"

The Grangers both nodded, accepting that this was the voice of an experienced wizard. A teen-aged, battle-experienced wizard.

Harry and Hermione apparated the Grangers side-along to the apparation room of the Leaky Cauldron.

They greeted Tom from the depths of their hooded cloaks and went into Diagon Alley.

The normally thronged thoroughfare was almost deserted. Several shops were very much closed. They made their way to Gringotts and entered.

Harry went to one of the tellers and said, "Q'rzan Koorg to see Si'ah Griphook."

The goblin looked at Harry in amazement, not realising that any wizard would care, or perhaps to dare to use Griphook's correct title. He bustled off to find his superior.

"Harry? Si'ah?"

"Griphook is technically Warmaster to the Goblin Nation, so he is Si'ah."

A few moments later Griphook appeared. "Si'ah Q'rzan! You received my message?"

"Si'ah Griphook, yes. My reply was misleading. I trust that you will understand."

"Your reply? Our owl was instructed that no reply was required."

"So, presumably your owl was intercepted. Unfortunate, but of no _immediate _import, until four, at least."

Griphook grinned. "Come, you have an entourage?"

Harry smiled. "My consort's family. What is mine is theirs."

Griphook bowed to the three.

"Si'ada Lenkja, it is a pleasure. And your parents, I recognise. This way please."

The back office was a gothic phantasmagoria of gilt and curlicued ornamentation. Harry noticed Griphook's expression.

"Your reception room is not to your taste, I take it, Griphook?"

The Goblin laughed. "It is to impress the usual wizarding clients. Please, this way."

He led them through a further doorway into a pleasant, functional office with what looked like muggle furnishings. There were perfectly ordinary filing cabinets along one wall.

Harry laughed politely. "Much more business-like. You shop at a muggle office fitters' I take it?"

Griphook smiled pleasantly. "Our more discerning customers appreciate the irony."

"Actually, I appreciate that it is functional and doesn't disturb the eye."

"Are you certain that you're not of Goblin Blood, Mr Potter?"

"Fairly certain, but I would count it a blessing if I were. Now, to business?"

Griphook cocked an eyebrow at Harry's comment about goblin blood.

They all sat. Griphook explained that due to the intricacies of wizarding inheritance law, and the thoroughness of Goblin record keeping, that Harry was the sole inheritor of the Lestrange estate, such as it remained.

"Most of the gold and property was seized by the Ministry in payment of fines against the last survivors of House Lestrange. The inheritor would normally have been a family member of House Black, but since your godfather named you inheritor of House Black, the legacy comes to yourself.

"The final accounting is as follows, cash totalling about one hundred and twenty three thousand galleons; Six hundred and thirty pounds sterling; both wizarding and muggle investments totalling an estimated sixty thousand galleons and one hundred thousand US dollars respectively.

"There are two small properties overseas plus an island off the West Coast of Scotland, and a number of artefacts and family treasures in the vault."

"We would like to inspect the vault, but for all other matters here, I am willing to leave them in your hands. Are there any disputed items in the vault?"

"There are a small number of Goblin-made items in the vault, only two are in dispute. Neither is of any major worth. There is a jewelled dagger and a ceremonial axe, they are, of course, prized for historical value rather than as items of great aesthetic quality."

"Then those two items are to be withdrawn from the vault and returned to their rightful owners. Whilst I have no doubt that you underestimate the beauty of the pieces, I do not feel that the keeping of family heirlooms as spoils of war honours the keeper. Please convey my heartfelt thanks and apologies to the families for the inexcusably long time those items have been on loan to House Lestrange.

"Would it be appropriate to consolidate our holdings under a single account?"

Griphook looked at this young human appraisingly. On loan, indeed … a very nice way of saying _return of stolen goods_ without annoying anyone.

"Consolidation is only appropriate up to a point. There are several accounts that, while you may draw upon them, they are independent of other parts of your core accounts. I would advise that consolidation of your portfolios would be … advantageous."

"Then let us make it so. I will also need to give My Lady access to my accounts."

"In which case, I assume that congratulations are due to you Mrs Potter."

Hermione blushed.

"Not quite yet, Si'ah Griphook. Harry has asked for my hand, but the union is not yet formalised."

"Ah, I understand. My apologies."

"Griphook, my friend, apologies are not necessary. Surely, you understand that business comes before the consolidation of any alliance if possible."

Griphook looked at Harry. He had never been addressed as _friend_ by a wizard, at least, not in a manner that didn't betoken in insult. And for a human to realise that the business had to be concluded before a union … unheard of.

"You have settled upon a bride-price?"

"I was hoping that you would have knowledge of the guidelines? Would you be willing to negotiate on my behalf. No less than the guideline, though."

Griphook smiled. "Of course. I will consult the tables while you visit the Lestrange vault."

"Thank you."

Griphook pressed a button and a younger goblin entered. "Longtooth, please escort Mr Potter to vault number four hundred and twenty, he will return here when he has concluded his business there. His consort's parents would be advised to remain as my guests as we have some … negotiations to complete."

.

Harry and Hermione rode the rollercoaster that was the Gringotts' underground transit system. A drop of blood opened the vault. As the door opened, Harry and Hermione saw an array of what might have been junk or possibly just merely rubbish. On a table stood a golden cup.

"That's it, I think, Harry."

Harry produced his wand and cast a few diagnostic spells that Bill Weasley had taught him. There were no protections against removal of the cup, but several simple spells to confound any attempt at theft. Harry picked up the cup and winced as he was hit by a small shock spell. He placed the cup in one of the pockets in his belt.

Several books were sat on a chest. Harry checked them and disarmed several basic traps. The books were on dark magic, they were shrunk and placed in another pocket.

Harry saw the axe and dagger, and pointed them out to Hermione.

"Longtooth, are these the disputed artefacts?"

The gobin looked carefully. "I believe so Si'ah Potter."

"Then I would appreciate if you would bring them to Si'ah Griphook when we return."

The goblin looked amazed and proud beyond belief.

Seeing nothing more of immediate interest in the small vault, they left and returned to Griphook's office. On the way, Harry asked Longtooth if he knew the story of the axe and dagger.

"They were taken in the wars of 1292 when Longbeam and Broadhand were betrayed by Sardolfus Lestrange during peace negotiations. His act prolonged the war by another twenty years."

"I take it these items are of cultural significance beyond that betrayal?"

The goblin swallowed hard. "Yes. The axe was the Warmaster's symbol of office for many hundreds of years. The dagger was a gift of the goblin overlord Longnail to his wife. It has a number of charms upon it now lost to our magic."

"How much kudos will you get from being the one to return them into the hands of your Warmaster?"

The goblin grinned. "Not much – unless you count _being able to dine out on it for life_ as the muggles say?"

Harry laughed. "I assume there is also a bounty on them?"

The goblin nodded.

"It's yours."

Longtooth goggled and thanked the young couple effusively.

.

"Harry, Mr Griphook here is trying to tell us that you have to pay about two hundred thousand pounds for our daughter."

"That's correct. Since we are negotiating under Goblin Law, I have to buy back your investment in your daughter. Griphook has a pretty shrewd idea of how much it has cost to feed, house, clothe and educate her over the past eighteen years.

"Of course, what he has omitted to tell you is that as soon as you accept the offered bride price, you will be a part of House Potter, and will enjoy whatever legal protections and privileges are available as members of a leading wizarding family. Apart from anything else, it means that you can come and go unhindered in the wizarding world. It also means that you can carry those, ahem, wands legally. And the various charmed items you will need to carry.

"I urge you to agree. Please?"

"Mum, Dad, I have seen Harry's trust vault, and the money that Griphook is talking about is barely a dent in petty cash. I have no idea what his family vault looks like, but I'd guess that vault thirty two is pretty large and pretty full?"

Griphook nodded. "The old vaults belonging to the ancient lineages are indeed spacious. Thirty two is one of the largest, occupying one of the bigger expansions in The Rift."

"The Rift?"

"The vaults are in the walls of a crack in the rocks several miles below London. It's known as The Rift, and is maintained largely by Goblin magical engineering. There are precious few goblins who actually understand the whole of the magical technology that went into the opening of The Rift, and happily, no wizards at all.

"I can't help but feel that if more wizards could appreciate the scale of the engineering involved, then they may treat the Goblin Nation with a little more respect. That kind of magical power in the hands of you-know-who could literally tear the planet in half."

"Harry, are you kidding?"

"No, Mr Granger. I am, however, grateful that Goblin People share my own ambition, to be allowed to live their lives quietly and peacefully in their own way. Just getting on with normal daily business."

The three other humans shook their heads in wonder. Griphook suddenly felt very close to this young man who understood Goblin society so well.

"In which case, in order to keep the peace, I will agree to Griphook's proposed bride price, and insist that it be placed in trust for my daughter's future children."

Griphook grinned. "Ah, you have hit upon the traditional destination of all bride-prices in Goblin society."

.

"Now, Griphook, I believe that Longtooth has something for you."

Griphook looked confused. Longtooth bowed and spoke a few words of gobbledegook, presenting the now cloth-wrapped axe and dagger.

"Longtooth told us the story. I believe that you are the Warmaster of the Goblin Nation in Britain?"

Griphook nodded. "I thank you, Si'ah Potter. You will understand why I gave as little detail as I did."

"Oh, entirely. It does not do to dwell upon the historical value of major cultural artefacts when you are negotiating their return."

Harry grinned, and once again, Griphook wondered where this wizard was leading.

.

Once all of their business was complete Griphook escorted them back to the banking hall. As they arrived, there seemed to be a disturbance in progress.

Griphook was about to hustle them back into the body of the bank when Harry said.

"Si'ah Griphook, perhaps the time to draw swords together has come?"

Griphook goggled slightly as Harry and Hermione drew mek'leths, the small, sword-like weapons they had trained with. Griphook snapped his fingers and his own goblin-blade was in his hand.

"Si'ah Q'rzan, the time has come."

They waded into the fight leaving the Grangers in the care of one of the goblin tellers.

After, they were sat on the floor with the goblins taking a well-earned drink with their allies.

"You fight well, young humans. Your weapons are strange but you use them to good effect. You have a reason to fight alongside us?"

Hermione giggled. "Thank you. Of course we do. The death eaters are a minority, working toward the downfall of all that is reasonable and good. It has taken centuries for the magical world to come to the point where the various races can coexist.

"Why would we not stand together against a few Johnny-come-lately madmen who think that they are the universe's chosen? Besides, they were after Harry and myself, I'd guess."

Harry chipped in. "That aside, it was a good fight. A bit ill matched, in my opinion. They needed at least fifty to have even expected to keep us occupied for a couple of hours. A good appetiser."

The goblin guards laughed, agreeing that the Death Eaters were seriously outclassed.

"Will you be taking your trophies, young humans?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't think so. Death Eaters are just too ugly to hang on the wall. You keep them for us. We will keep their wands though."

The goblin guards nodded. "It would be our honour. To point and say, _we fought alongside Si'ah'h Q'rzan and Lenkja when these were taken_. Yes stories to pass down to our young. We have few stories of our own in peacetime."

Dan Granger was still wondering how he came to have a goblin sword in his hand, and he was wondering if he had really killed the masked madman who had attacked his wife. He was also vaguely wondering how a three-feet tall goblin could be so deft with a sword his own height.

With half an ear, Emma Granger was listening to her daughter discussing the similarities between goblin-steel and titanium alloy. The goblins seemed most appreciative of the quality of the blades she and Harry carried. She wondered, vaguely, if she was going to wake up before she found out how this dream ended.

Eventually, by some form of communication undetectable by the normal senses, the guards, Harry and Hermione decided that it was time to get on with something other than relaxing after a fight.

They bade farewell to Griphook, Dan returning the blade he had used to his care. They pulled their hoods up to obscure their faces. The usual reporters from The Prophet were there. Harry replied to their questions gruffly in Klingon and broken English, saying only that House Koorg would always be honoured to fight alongside their goblin friends.

Luna was there and, naturally, understood Harry's words. The Quibbler would have another exclusive that week.

.

After returning Hermione's parents to their home, Harry apparated to Grimmauld Place. He quietly entered the old house and entered the library. He found Kreacher there.

"Kreacher, would you like to work for your former mistress Narcissa?"

The old elf's eyes lit up.

"Her husband died yesterday in Diagon Alley. He was a Death Eater, but you probably already knew that. Narcissa was always the more gentle soul. Go to her and tell her that as from New Year's day, she will own this house. You should bring her back yourself. I am going to reinforce the wards before I leave today, and I want you to ensure that no one tampers with them. Especially Draco."

Kreacher nodded. "Yes, Master. Draco Malfoy was ever … wilful."

"An honest observation. I am charging you with one more duty that I will bind you to once you have left my service. You are to guard Narcissa Malfoy nee Black with your very life. If she is in trouble, you may call on me to help if I can. Do you understand?"

The elf was now standing almost straight. "Yes master. Kreacher understands."

"Right, do I have to give you clothes to seal the pact?"

"No, Master. You have given Kreacher an order. Kreacher will obey."

"Good. You have been a faithful servant, Kreacher. Now, go and do the same for many more years."

The elf popped off and Harry started clearing the books from the library. He retrieved Slytherin's locket from where Kreacher had hidden it, placing in its stead the locket owned by Regulus Black. He tried summoning any other books from the rest of the house, but only retrieved Sirius' school journal and an old copy of Playwizard, presumably belonging to Ron.

After reinforcing the wards, a quick scout-round confirmed that there was nothing more that he wanted from the house, so he departed Sirius's childhood home for the last time.

Once back at the Grangers' he gave the books to Hermione.

"Harry, why?"

"I'm giving the house to Narcissa. It's what Sirius would have wanted. It's not secure for us, but she will be safe enough there. And I have told Kreacher to serve her too. He is too set in his ways to accept freedom. I'd say that he is happy, at least.

"This is everything you expressed an interest in, though. Did I miss anything?"

Hermione glanced through the books. "No, this is everything."

"It's just as well, this is the whole library … unless you want Ron's old copy of Playwizard?"

Harry ducked, laughing.

.

Christmas morning arrived, and the Grangers came downstairs to find Harry cooking breakfast.

"You didn't need to do this, you know."

"I was up early because there were things I needed to do, so I thought I might as well cook breakfast."

.

After they had eaten, they trooped into the living room to open their presents. There were a number of gifts under the tree that hadn't been there the night before.

Harry had been making presents. Two wooden boxes with automatic shrinking charms on them were there. Each contained a set of the Klingon weapons that Harry had made from titanium. In addition, there were two goblin-style swords of the same metal. The grips on all the items were dragon hide. Harry had also invested in basilisk hide boots and gloves for them.

"They're beautiful. Made from Titanium, you say?"

Harry nodded. "It's much lighter than steel, it's rust-proof and easier to work with magic than steel, too. There are other things that I've bought for you, but I thought these would be better as Christmas presents."

Hermione opened her present and found an incredible, sapphire necklace. Harry put it on her.

"It's beautiful. You shouldn't have …"

"Yes I should. Money is for spending, not for hoarding. Besides, in the Wizarding world, it's the place of the husband's family to provide the dowry.

"On top of which, you did say that you liked the jewellery work of Fabergé."

"This is a Fabergé piece?"

Harry nodded, knowing full well that there were only three pieces by the artist outside of the various national collections.

"Harry, not wishing to pry, but …?"

Harry smiled at Mrs Granger. "Obscenely rich. There's no other word for it. Even if I never worked in my life, and lived as a muggle, I would probably die richer than I am now."

Hermione spluttered. "I-I-I never knew!"

"Nor did I until last summer."

.

Once the ritual of the presents was done, Harry told the grangers to take a look in the cupboard under the stairs.

Emma, expecting to find some wrapped gift under there was startled to see a flight of stairs leading downward into a basement room.

"Wha …?"

Harry chuckled. "I _love_ magic. It's actually the same magical technology as is used for our bottomless trunks and the wizarding tents. Basically, there's a large trunk in there that's only a quarter of an inch deep with a detachable lid that contains a complete fitness suite. There's no electrical stuff there, but it means that you have a gymnasium for all the practice you could want … including a _tatami_ mat for martial arts practice."

They trooped down and, sure enough, there was a multi-room fitness suite including a swimming pool, sauna, gymnasium and fitness machines.

"Harry, the pool alone is the size of the house and garden … ?"

Harry laughed. "I wasn't sure how big it needed to be, so I just got them to make it the same size as the pool in Little Whinging."

.

"Hi Bill, what brings you over?"

"You were discussing Horcruces, Harry. I'm afraid Fleur overheard your conversation. Why do you need to know about them? They're pretty dark magic."

"Dumbledore thinks we're going to need to destroy some, and having seen what the curses on one did to his arm …"

"That was a horcrux? I'd have thought he of all people would have … alright, I assume that You-Know-Who made one."

"Several."

"Pardon? Eh! No wonder he looks more like a snake than a person … fine, I'll tell you what you need to know. The biggest warning is that a horcrux will try to possess anyone in its proximity for too much of the time."

"Like Ginny."

Bill Weasley blanched. "That really was a horcrux then? Damn, Harry, my family owes you more blood debts than we have lives to give. I knew that Ginny almost died, but that she was being used to … it doesn't bear thinking about."

"It gets worse. We're not sure what the other ones are, or where they are. We have two of the possible three unknowns, but other than a feeling, we have no proof."

"Do you want to deal with them now?"

Harry and Hermione nodded. "The sooner the better."

"Let's go somewhere safe …"

.

They reappeared on Dartmoor, a remote tor on the northern side of the moor in an area used for military manoeuvres.

"You have the blade you promised?"

Harry brought out what looked like a Goblin war axe. The entire weapon was made from a single piece of titanium alloy.

"What the … in Merlin's name, what is _that_?"

"It's a titanium alloy axe. It took a lot of coaxing to transfigure from a bar of metal. It is _supposed_ to be the strongest alloy in existence. Certainly, it's hard enough to chop stone without blunting. It's also magically reinforced, and I got the local priest to bless it for good measure."

Bill said simply, "that will do nicely."

He had explained that when a horcrux is destroyed, any curses will be released along with, possibly, the soul-remnant which would attempt to possess any living thing large enough to contain it. He taught them the spell to destroy any remnant that was freed. He also mentioned that _fiendfyre_ would destroy a horcrux, but required an awful lot of control to prevent from spreading.

The locket was examined, and Bill showed the duo how to cast curse detection charms and to interpret them.

"This one has a simple pain curse on it. Let's get set up and defuse the curse and destroy the locket."

They did. The curse took no effort to remove, and Harry hit the locket with his axe, burying the blade in the surface of the granite boulder they had placed the locket on. There was a scream and a small cloud of black emerged from the locket that dissipated rapidly in the morning air.

The cup was another matter. This had some deep enchantments in it, including several slow-death curses. Bill showed them how to remove each layer of curse, carefully defusing each."

"You two are good at this. Maybe you should consider going to work as curse breakers?"

Hermione laughed. "We'll think about it Bill."

At last, the cup was stood, waiting to be destroyed.

"Are you sure about this Harry, I mean, it's Helga Hufflepuff's cup … you don't even _know_ that it's a horcrux, after all …"

"You did the diagnostic yourself, Bill. It's affecting you."

Bill went to grab the cup, but Hermione restrained him.

Harry hit the cup with the axe, cleaving it cleanly into two half-cups. A screeching wail came from the remnants and a green spectre emerged, coalescing into an almost transparent miniature Voldemort.

Hermione's wand was in her hand immediately, at the same instant as Harry's.

"_Espiritus dissolutio_!"

The two spells hit the ghostly form before it could reach Bill, and with a screech, it vanished in a cloud of black smoke.

"Damn, that was close. Thanks guys, that was …"

"Voldemort in all his power. He's a master legilimens and an expert with the imperius curse. This is why we've been working on occlumancy so hard this year."

"Moody told me that you had incredible defences against the Imperius, but I've never felt anything like _that_."

"Well, Bill, remember that most of what you deal with pre-dates the Imperius, after all."

"Now, there is one more that we're pretty sure of, and one that we haven't found yet. The one that we're pretty sure of is right here."

Harry tapped his scar.

Bill Weasley said a rude word. Then he let forth a string of invective. He cast the charm.

"Yes, Harry, I'm afraid it is. There is a way of dealing with it, but it may have been with you too long. The longer the soul fragment is in a host, the deeper it takes root. Do you want to try?"

Harry nodded, and Bill explained what would be required.

He found himself stripped of all weapons and wands and shackled to the granite of the tor. Hermione kissed him for luck and prepared to coax the soul fragment from Harry, who would be fighting to expel it. Bill stood by ready to destroy the fragment once it was free.

Hermione began the rite of exorcism, as described by Bill. At last, Harry managed to say, between clenched teeth. "It's fighting, and losing …"

As he said this, the first tendrils of green emerged from Harry's scar, which was accompanied by a thin wailing and a trickle of blood. This became a scream as Harry let loose a stream of invective in Klingon, and the entire mass of Voldemort's soul was ejected. It was almost solid in appearance as Bill and Hermione both shot their spells through it multiple times.

At last there was silence on the hilltop, with just Harry panting and Hermione sobbing quietly into her boyfriend's neck.

"Thanks Bill, and thank you Hermione. He's gone from my head, I can feel it."

After cleaning Harry up and releasing him from the rock, they sat and rested.

"That was an awful lot of soul-fragment, Harry. It was more than an anchor, I would guess that was possibly the major part of Voldemort's soul you were sharing space with. How you feeling?"

"Bloody awful, but free. By the way, Bill, That's a blood debt I owe you and yours. How does it feel to have defeated Voldemort?"

"Bloody marvellous. Now, let's go and celebrate…"

.

A quiet drink in The Toad and Cauldron in the village of Ottery St. Mary recharged their batteries.

"How you feeling now, Harry?"

"Better, but I feel like my magic's flat."

Bill cast a couple of medical charms.

"Hmm. Yes, your magic is seriously depleted. Once you get home, you need to rest, and to avoid doing any more magic for a few days if you can. You should be fine by the time the Hogwarts Express sets out for the new term."

.


	6. 6: Battles

**tlhIngan maH! (We Are Klingons)**

by Polydicta

**Summary:**

Harry knows that he will meet Voldemort. With the headmaster dead and the underage magic detectors damaged, he decides to give himself an 'edge'. A Crossunder between the worlds of Harry Potter and Start Trek fandom.

What happens when Harry is exposed to a fictional character with a worthwhile warrior ethos? What happens when Harry and company decide to emulate a fictional warrior race. What happens when their training makes them physically strong, immune to pain and magically powerful?

_tlhInganpu_, is what.

**Additional warnings**

Some nasty curses are going to be used - moderately graphic death scenes.

**Author's Forward:**

This is NOT a Star Trek / HP crossover! – it's a HP/Trekkie crossunder. The Klingon stuff is based (loosely) on Star Trek (Next Generation) material.

In speech, text enclosed in square brackets [ ] is the Klingon/English translation

**Disclaimer: **

All fiction is derivative and fan fiction doubly so. I make no claim to own any part of any of the following, all I have done is an attempt to put together the elements in a novel fashion, using words and ideas like Lego ™ bricks.

Star Trek, Klingon and everything pertaining are copyright items and the property of Paramount Studios and the Estate of Gene Roddenberry. No infringement on those rights is intended.

There is no money involved – all I do is to share what I do for my own amusement.

**A quick note**

The _avaraka_ hex is the root from which the killing curse was developed. It causes a momentary neural overload, experienced as a single pulse of pain more intense than the cruciatus curse, but is not as prolonged (hence, it is a hex and not a curse).

_Avaraka_ is used by healers to restart a person's heart in the case of a heart attack (like a muggle defibrillator)

-::::::::-

**tlhIngan maH! (We Are Klingons) - Part 6: Battles**

New year's eve was a quiet, family affair with the Grangers. They saw the new year in and drank a few toasts before heading off to bed. Bill had been right, a few days without using magic was enough to let Harry get back to normal. If anything, Harry felt stronger than ever.

Hermione cast the same diagnostic as Bill had done.

"You were always powerful, Harry, but now … well, I wonder if the horcrux had been siphoning off your magical energy and giving it to _him_."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "It just gets worse, doesn't it? Well, if that is what was happening, then he's going to be weaker when we finally meet."

Hermione's lips curled into a smile. Before she could speak, Harry had caught them in a kiss.

That night they cemented their relationship shortly after Harry asked Hermione to be his wife.

.

They woke sharing a bed, not for the first time, but before had always been more … innocent.

-::::::::-

Their return to Hogwarts after the holiday was quiet, there were no disturbances on the train and they arrived in Scotland on a dark, snowy night. For the first time they all saw Hagrid's thestrals and were nuzzled by the death horses as though old friends.

That night, Voldemort attacked Azkaban, killing the aurors stationed there and releasing the prisoners. At least, those prisoners willing to become his minions.

He took with him one hundred and eighty prisoners of whom sixty were already marked. The eighty seven dementors of Azkaban went with them. Three hundred prisoners and thirty aurors were left behind, kissed or otherwise dead.

.

The end of January saw the first Hogsmead weekend of the new year and the five visited, keeping a watchful eye over the students.

It was almost lunch time when a series of cracks and pops announced the arrival of Voldemort's death eaters. The dim winter's day was illumined by the deadly light of lethal magics. The chill of the approaching dementors ensured that few would be able to fight.

A series of silver lights ran across the village, patroni summoned by most of the former DA members. Only students seemed to be fighting back against the fully trained wizards intent of death and destruction.

The tide of destruction was turned when five figures in green, cowled battle robes arrived three on foot while two arrived by broom. Not a word was spoken by them as they unleashed lethal spells upon the interlopers. The newcomers simply ignored the use of the cruciatus curse against them. Dark hexes were batted away or returned with negligent wand-flicks. The killing curse, which the death eaters threw with abandon, was simply side-stepped.

Draco Malfoy found himself fighting side by side with Peter Pettigrew, double teaming one of the green-robed fighters.

"Peter, Draco … nuqneH. You both owe me debts of honour. You, Peter, owe me your life thrice over. I call your life debt due this day, I call your blood debt due this day and I call your debt of betrayal due this day. Now it is time to die. _pub SoH 'lw_!" [boil your blood - the blood-boiling curse]

A ripple of magic hit Petigrew who started screaming. A shocked Draco Malfoy paused, seeing the rat-like man turn red, eyes bulging and writhing. The traitor's skin began to split, spilling steaming blood into the snow. He stopped writhing, he stopped screaming and with an exhalation of bloody foam, he stopped living.

"Draco, your life, too, is forfeit. _Lemniscus__dirumpo_!" (Cutting Ribbon curse)

A whip of pink magic shot from Harry's wand; a wrist flick and Draco malfoy was dead, his head separated from his neck and his torso sliced cleanly from left shoulder to right hip.

.

Severus Snape wasn't having a good day. Not good at all. It had started off well enough, and then he had been sent to observe the 'revels' in Hogsmead.

"Severus, you are to observe. Under no circumstances are you to engage anyone in battle. I wish to know more of these foreign wizards."

Snape shook his head. His report was going to hurt, and he knew it. He watched as Pettigrew and Malfoy died - one screaming, the other quickly and silently. He was somewhat saddened at seeing his godson cut down, but similarly, he was unsurprised.

.

Ronald Weasley stood shoulder to shoulder with three other death eaters. He had enjoyed this latest Hogsmead visit, throwing cutters and blasting hexes with abandon. He had even managed to hit someone with a cruciatus curse. How he loved the screaming. Unfortunately, he never managed to hit anyone with his killing curse as the effort of casting those dark curses had left him somewhat winded.

"Ronald, brother, nuqneH. I owe you for the pain you brought me. You owe me for your betrayal. SoH 'Hegh!" [Prepare to die]

The redhead cast a cruciatus curse on the figure before him. The twisting yellow light hit the woman who he now realised was his sister. She never flinched or acknowledged the curse, she just stood.

"Ronald, this is for mum and the pain you caused her. leng QoQ. _Avaraka. __Naribus__vespertilionem__faciem. __Reducto_." [farewell] (Pain hex, bat-bogey hex, blasting hex)

Ron Weasley died over about three minutes, his chest shredded and his lungs punctured. Throughout, he was assaulted by his own nasal excretions. As he died, he was still cursing, in his heart, that everyone else had everything that he had deserved. He died not understanding that he had received precisely what he had earned.

.

Hermione happened upon a massive brute of a man. A werewolf, actually. Fenrir Greyback (born Frank Hardbotham) was a vicious and sadistic killer, preferring to eat human flesh in order to feed his inner wolf. His outer wolf had no quarrel with his diet.

He sniffed and a grin split his face.

"Ah, a little girlie. I can smell your blood, little girl."

The werewolf's mouth was watering. He attacked physically, grabbing for Hermione.

What he got for his trouble was hit in the face with one of the points of her Bat'leth.

Greyback was confused and angry. Never a great thinker, his mind failed to grasp how he had been hurt by this slip of a child. The sudden pain in his groin brought his attention fully back to the matter in hand.

He roared in surprise and made a grab for the girl, and was hit in the teeth and nose by one end of the four-pointed blade, opening his face in a vertical slice that made him furious while simultaniously impairing his vision with blood and a spreading nose.

He spun to try to catch the girl who had danced past him, only to be driven sideways by a powerful blow to the side. His legs gave way as he felt a pain in his mid back. As he landed, his spine was snapped across the titanium weapon still embedded in his back.

Hermione stood over the fallen were, her d'k tahg in her hand. She pointed the blade toward the were's neck and whispered an unintelligible incantation. "_chenmoH d'k tahg baS'chIS_." [create silver (on my) knife]

He saw the bright metal become mirror bright. He felt fear as the blade bit into his flesh. He felt the burning pain of the lunar metal as it entered his blood. His blood splashed out from his severed neck and the last thing he felt was the knife entering his heart.

Fenrir Greyback, feared monster and leader of Voldemort's werewolfs, died regretting only his demise.

It took Hermione eight seconds to end his reign of fifty years.

.

Luna and Neville found themselves facing, at last, two unknown death eaters.

It was a one-sided dance of death. The two minions were dead as soon as they confronted the pair, even though they didn't realise it yet.

A non-stop barrage of minor hexes and jinxes prevented the death eaters from replying with their own magic. It was obvious from the first that the green-clad warriors were playing with their prey. Nothing that they were using was in the least bit harmful.

A few words were exchanged between the pair and the death eaters knew no more, one succumbing to a severing curse to the neck, the other to a blood-freezing curse to the head.

As the last two death eaters fell, there was the sound of aurors arriving, too late to achieve anything but cleaning up the mess left by five students and thirty dead death eaters.

.

Harry discovered, in the course of things, that a couple of his books had been left at Hermione's house, so he went to the Room of Requirement to search for temporary replacements. He entered the _room of hidden things_ aspect when he saw that the entire contents had been destroyed by the _fiendfyre_ that had been released inside. Suddenly harry remembered seeing Ravenclaw's diadem atop a pile of junk, now long gone.

"_Accio_ the remains of Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem …"

Harry found himself holding a series of solidified, ash-covered globules of electrum (gold/silver alloy) and a number of greyed, glassy blobs that had been precious stones.

On his return to his room, he sent Hedwig with a letter to the Grangers to send the books he had forgotten, and went to find Hermione in the library.

"The last one was already dealt with … here are the remains of Ravenclaw's Diadem."

Harry placed a folded parchment containing the remains on the desk.

"How do you know that this is …"

"I accio'd the remains of the diadem by name. This is what I got. He's almost mortal."

The two suddenly started grinning like idiots.

"We need to tell professor McGonagall."

They went to find the Headmistress.

.

"You're sure?"

"Yes, as sure as we can be. Professor Dumbledore was right on the mark with the others, so we have no reason to suspect him of being incorrect about the diadem."

"How do you know that the diadem was destroyed?"

"Professor, try _accio_ing the remains of Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem. They're right here, after all."

She did and was rewarded by receiving the packet of melted bits.

"There is just one other possibility, and that's Tom Riddle's special award. If we could check it, please?"

.

They trooped down to the trophy room. With the case open, Hermione cast the diagnostics that Bill had taught them.

"Ugh! There's some nasty stuff on it alright. We should defuse it, but it doesn't show up as a horcrux."

.

Thirty minutes and one impressed headmistress later, they had cleaned the curses from the small shield. They also cast diagnostics on the other items in the cabinet. The Weatherburn Trophy for the Dark Arts, however, proved to be a very different piece of work.

"Professor Weatherburn was the teacher of Occultism, back in the sixteen hundreds. Dark arts haven't been taught at Hogwarts since 1752, and so the trophy hasn't been awarded since then. It would be a shame to lose it, but …"

"… like Hufflepuff's cup, it is a horcrux," Hermione concluded.

"Speaking of which … I'd like to present this to the school. It has no residual enchantments because it was sliced in half, but you can barely see the join …"

Harry fished out the re-joined halves of the Hufflepuff cup.

"I joined it using a muggle glue, rather than a sticking charm that may be accidentally disrupted. The axe is so sharp and thin that it barely dented the soft metal. A few minutes with a metalworking charm removed the dents on the rim."

"Are … that's incredible … are you sure?"

"Yes, otherwise it would just sit in our vault gathering dust and spiders."

They took the Weatherburn Trophy out to the quiddich pitch and placed it on a rock that Hermione transfigured.

The various layers of protection were peeled back and neutralised. Finally, Harry used the axe to destroy the horcrux. A greyish green vapour rose and coalesced into a form that neither teen recognised.

Two wands flared and the spectre was banished forever.

"Grindelwald … Grindelwald had a horcrux."

"Professor?"

"Gellert Grindelwald had a horcrux, and it was in our trophy room! I'll hex him to …"

"He'll probably die soon, Professor. He is older than Professor Dumbledore was. Let's repair the trophy and return it to the trophy room, shall we?"

Other than anti-theft hexes and prank charms, nothing else in the trophy room proved to be anything other than it outwardly seemed.

.

The daily prophet next day bore the banner headline – 'Grindelwald Dead!'

"That should give Tom pause for thought, no?"


End file.
